Revenge Is A Well Oiled Gun
by Doc Drabble
Summary: What if the roles of humans and Pokemon were reversed? That would be weird, right? Right. T for violence, please R & R.
1. Chapter 1

The human family huddled together in the tall grass, hoping against hope they would not be discovered. Naked save from scraps torn from giant leaves, their wild hair and wilder eyes told of their desperate plight better than these words ever could.

There was a rustle of leaves, and the children shivered in fear, huddling close to their parents. They relaxed somewhat as their older brother ran out of the bushes, though his face was drawn and grave.

'We have to move on,' said the boy. 'The great electric mouse approaches.'

The father looked at his wife. She was still weak, struggling to recover from an ankle wound she had sustained the week before, the last time they'd had to run. She met his gaze, the fierce determination in her green eyes burning bright.

Then the ground began to shake, and they knew it was too late to run. The thuds fell louder and closer, and finally a shadow fell across the group, and the great beast towered over them, lightning illuminated it's dreadful countenance as it grinned and drew a prison orb from it's backpack.

'Leave my family alone, you bastard!' cried the father, attempting to shield them as the orb descended.

But all Pikachu heard as he prepared to capture his quarry was 'Carter, Carter. John Carter!'

John Carter cried out as the beast's paw roughly bundled him into the orb, snapping the jaws shut just as the man pulled his arm to safety. The last thing he saw before being plunged into darkness was the terrified faces of his family. He pounded on the inside of the orb, screamed to be released, and finally collapsed, exhausted. Would he ever see his family again?

**To be continued...?**


	2. Chapter 2

Pikachu strolled back to Broken Promises, grinning to himself as the tiny tap of desperate human fists on prison orbs drummed out an erratic rhythm from his backpack. It had been a successful day; he'd captured three new fighters and it was barely lunchtime.

The crowd in The Garchomp's Tail was rough, but even this hardened band of lowlife thugs quietened their rowdy banter as Pikachu entered. Each Pokemon's bravery was measured by whether they met his steely gaze as he swaggered over to his usual spot at the bar. 'Hit me up, sugar,' he rasped to the young Lilligant serving wench. She was new, and barely looked old enough to drink herself, but in a few years she'd be as washed out as the crones trying to ply their trade on the corner outside.

Pikachu knocked back the bitter fluid he was presented with, suppressing a shudder as he slammed the tankard down on the counter as the patrons nearest him edged slowly away. 'Who wants to battle?' he said quietly.

Anyone who'd been in town longer than a week, and that was more or less everyone, kept dead quiet. But a young Poliwhirl who was just passing through took up the challenge, and Pikachu grinned. A novice trainer would be perfect to break in his latest acquisition.

'John Carter,' he said as he cracked open the prison orb and dumped it's terrified contents onto the bar's floor, 'I choose you!'

But all John Carter heard as he blinked in the relative brightness was a thunderous 'Pika-pi, chu!' from far above. The great purple spiral-beast roared it's response and produced another prison orb, from which another human dropped onto all fours.

John watched in horror as the other figure straightened up. The man was easily a foot taller than him, with an ugly scarred face and what looked like warpaint smeared over his muscular body. In his right hand he wielded a crudely made axe, which he swung as he surveyed his opponent.

_Shit_, thought John Carter. _That's it, I'm dead._


	3. Chapter 3

'We don't have to do this!' shouted John. 'They can't force us to fight!'

The tall, scarred man merely grinned at him, tossing the axe from hand to hand.

'Listen to me,' said John desperately. 'I have a wife and two children. That monster took me from them. I have to get back!' The man appeared unmoved, so he added. 'Can't you understand that? Don't you have family of your own? I won't fight you.'

The other man laughed, a deep, guttural sound that quickly transcended to an ear shattering screech as he charged at John, the axe raised above his head and a mad glint in his bloodshot eyes. John barely had time to jump aside as he swung the axe down, and he heard the metal swoosh past his ear, the blow barely missing his shoulder.

The maniac instantly turned and swung again, and this time the blade skimmed John's chest, leaving a thin red gash just above his ribs. He fell backwards, instinctively bringing his knee up and catching the man in the crotch as he fell upon him, ready to strike the killing blow. The man howled, doubling over, and John took the opportunity to scramble away.

He got to his feet and ran as fast as he could towards to door of the bar. Behind him the great yellow monster roared and started to stomp after him. As he neared the door there was a bellow, and he turned just in time to see the axe hurtling towards his head. Half a second later his face would have been split in half; as it was the sharp edge buried itself in a wooden beam. Then the scarred man was on him, punching him in the face again and again. He felt his nose break, teeth loosen, and his own blood spattered into his eyes.

John lay there and waited to die. What chance did he stand? But then he remembered his wife, his children, and somehow he got the strength to grab the scarred head and twist. There was a horrible snap, and the man's corpse fell heavily onto him.

With his strength spent and the ordeal finally over, John gratefully passed out.


End file.
